


The Gift of Her Surrender

by Saraste



Series: Femslash February 2019 [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/F, Femslash February, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 22:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17837021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: In a private room at their club, Sansa makes Margaery feel good, uncaring and excited by a watching crowd.





	The Gift of Her Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> This is a stand-alone piece in the same verse, but not a continuation of 'Obedience.' (Mostly because I had this scene in my head and I'd unfortunately written Margaery wearing trousers in that one...)

Sansa liked it best when Margaery wore a skirt, it gave her the illusion of privacy, even when it exited her having everyone see, everyone know, what she was willing to do for Margaery’s pleasure, and why wouldn’t she have done so, for wasn’t Margaery always good for her?

She could feel Margaery’s thighs tremble slightly under her palms as she moved into position, licking her lips before her mouth found what it was seeking, the waiting wet folds of Margaery’s sex and her pulsing core, aching for her touch.

Margaery’s hand was heavy on her head, seeming to keep her in her place, even when Sansa had no intention of moving anywhere from where she was. She sat on her legs, Margaery’s booted legs on either side of her, hands on Margaery’s thighs, and if she felt any discomfort herself, it was washed over by the overwhelming desire of pleasing her mistress, the aching need throbbing between her own thighs, where it would throb until Margaery provided for her, gave her her deserved pleasure and showed all just who belonged to who. Sansa was in the mood of Margaery taking out her strap-on so she could be ridden, there was a special pleasure in moving slowly in her lap, being filled as Margaery held her close and touched her, kissed her, told her how she was such a very good girl. But that wasn’t for here, not for the club, that was intimate and private and for their bedroom alone, where Margaery could reveal her vulnerability, where they could be sweet and soft in a way they couldn’t here at the Red Keep, where they indulged in exhibitionism and obedience, where Margaery had the lead, even when Sansa was holding the real reins with the gift of her surrender, her trust.

No, that wouldn’t be happening here, but it was good to indulge in fantasy, as it would make it all the better when that did happen, and Sansa knew that she wouldn’t leave the club unsatisfied, Margaery would guarantee it, they hadn’t agreed on waiting.

They were at a little niche away from the dance floor, where there was less noise and a smaller crowd, but there were still lookers, watching them avidly from a respectable distance. Sansa knew what she must look like, sitting there, more like kneeling, between Margaery’s legs, her head under her skirt, the hem rucking over her head, Margaery’s hand on it, seemingly forcing her but far from it, there was no forcing here, there had ever been any forcing between them, all Sansa had done with Margaery had been made willingly, enthusiastically, and with her vigorous consent.

She had so far never had to say the one word that would make it all stop.

She could imagine Margaery gasping a little as she pressed her lips against her, kissing her first with open lips, just the tip of her tongue peeking out and giving the tiniest of licks. The hand on her head pressed the tiniest bit, a sign Margaery was pleased. One of Margaery’s legs tensed and Sansa accommodated her, taking it over her shoulder, so Margaery was more open to her, slouched more comfortably in her plush padded chair.

And then…

Then she lost herself in the taste and feel of her, putting her mouth and tongue to the task she knew so well and loved: making Margaery feel good.

It didn’t take long for Margaery to shudder through her first climax, she’d been on the edge since home, and she didn’t tell Sansa to stop, so she kept going, slow and deliberate, even a bit teasing.

Margaery nudged the small of her back with her boot-heel as she shifted a little on her seat. ‘You’re such a good girl.’

Sansa preened to hear it, knew it was her due, knew she was, soaked in the praise and appreciative murmurs as she brought Margaery into a second, softer climax, being gentle with her sensitive places, not overwhelming her with too much, because this wasn’t the place for that, either.

The hand on her head tugged a little, gently and carefully, as she moved a bit to draw breath, her mouth starting to feel a bit worn, almost numb. She looked up into Margaery’s pleasure-dark eyes and the smug crooked smile on her lips, the flush of her face, neck and chest, where her breasts heaved. ‘Give us a kiss, now, my pretty.’

She obliged, coming deftly to her feet and settling down on Margaery’s lap, where she was patting her thigh, showing her spot. She snuggled close, allowed and needed, and met Margaery’s lips, which kissed her own taste from hers, hungry and deep.


End file.
